


the other side of the coin

by northern



Series: where you can always find me [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Manipulative Will, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Puppy Play, of a kind - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 09:51:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7613449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northern/pseuds/northern
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing easy about it, and Hannibal lets long seconds pass, deliberately thinking about balance, about two sides of a coin and the way two extraordinary people who understand each other might choose to let the other person lead for a time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the other side of the coin

**Author's Note:**

> Start with the first part of the series to get the most out of it.
> 
> Thank you to Elizaria and Damnslippyplanet for beta!

Hannibal waits until breakfast is over, the dishes washed and put away, before he approaches Will. Will has said little since yesterday, clearly giving Hannibal time to make himself more comfortable with the idea of… demeaning himself.

Hannibal is not a diffident man. He has refused to be anything but determined in what he plans and what he does since he was very young, and there are few compromises he's been willing to make over the years. What he has with Will defies the concept of compromise however, and he prefers to looks at it as something unique. Something set apart from the world. A sublime meeting of the minds of two people who finally understand each other, fully.

This is why what Will asks of him is difficult, but certainly not unbearable.

"If you would have me humble myself, I would ask that we decide the length of time beforehand."

Will blinks. "You'll do it?" He sounds close to scandalised. If it's on Hannibal's behalf, there's no need.

"Did you think I'd back away? Refuse you?"

Will puts his book away. "I thought the idea might be too alien for you."

Hannibal sits down next to him. "And yet you went to the trouble to pick out a collar to my measurements. That doesn't speak of doubt."

"It speaks of wishful thinking," Will says with a quirk of a smile on his lips.

Hannibal doesn't take the implied way out. He will do this, because Will wants it, and because it will be a new experience.

"No need for wishes," he says. "It is what you asked of me, and so I'll do it."

"How about a half hour, then, to start with?" Will shifts in his seat.

"Certainly. Now?" Hannibal glances at Will's blazer — the pocket doesn't look empty.

Will sees him looking and shakes his head. "Not that. That comes later."

How many sessions does Will predict? If there will be an attempt at conditioning, many repetitions will be necessary.

"For now, we'll do something very simple." Will motions for Hannibal to stand up, while Will remains seated on the couch. "Since it's the first thing we do, I'll explain it to you in detail. I don't want you to think I'm trying to trick you."

Hannibal tilts his head, interested. Will has that earnest look about him again. It's almost sweet, with no trace of bitterness or poorly concealed anger.

"I will say, 'Hannibal, come here'." Will pats his thigh with his palm, twice in quick succession, just as if he were calling a dog.

Hannibal remains silent, waiting for the rest of the instruction.

"When I do this, you will kneel on the floor and put your head on my thigh, here." He indicates where he patted his hand. "When you do it, I will reward you."

Hannibal purses his lips, studying Will's face. There is no deception found there, and Hannibal agrees that this is something a dog would do, or be taught to do. It is another thing to see himself do as Will described, as if it were the simplest thing and not an excessively submissive action, to be _rewarded_.

"And how will you reward me?" he asks, taking care not to emphasize any one word.

Will smiles. "If you were an actual dog, I would give you a treat from my pocket. But as you are _you_ , I don't think I'd have any luck with anything edible."

Or whatever _in_ edible thing Will might consider fit for human consumption, Hannibal thinks with an inward shudder. "Then what?"

"I will touch your face," Will says, as if this is the most logical substitute.

Will does not voluntarily touch him. It is very rare for them to have any contact at all. There was a time, when they were both still recovering from their wounds, when Hannibal had considered if there would be more between them, but in the end he'd left it up to Will and nothing further had happened. Hannibal suddenly wonders if this entire idea, his offer to let Will do what he pleases and Will's adjustment of the original plan, is nothing but sublimated wishes of intimacy. If so, they are about to get a small taste.

Will is waiting, seemingly for him to acknowledge that Will has fully explained what will happen.

"Very well," Hannibal says, steeling himself. He waits for the command to come. He can sense that Will is studying his face, and he puts on a pleasant half smile, but spares himself the trial of watching Will back.

Will lets his breath out, a long, slow exhale. It sounds like consideration and not like a sigh. Then he says it.

"Hannibal, come here."

Hannibal's gaze flicks immediately to Will's hand on his thigh, _pat pat_. He considers for a moment if there is a particular way he should perform the act of kneeling, but nothing suitable comes to mind. Instead the silence and stillness after the uttered words press against his immobility until he bends down on one knee, and then the other. Will is there in front of him, Will's thighs slightly spread for him to easily lay his head down. There is nothing easy about it, and Hannibal lets long seconds pass, deliberately thinking about balance, about two sides of a coin and the way two extraordinary people who understand each other might choose to let the other person lead for a time.

Then he carefully bends his head down and rests the side of his face against Will's thigh.

Above him, Will lets out his breath, as if he has been holding it, waiting for Hannibal to do as instructed. Then Hannibal feels his hand settle gently in his hair, Will's fingers alighting on his forehead like winged insects. They brush over his skin, so softly that Hannibal has to suppress a shiver from the sensation.

"Good boy," Will murmurs.

Hannibal stares blindly across the room as Will continues to brush his fingers over Hannibal's forehead and through his hair. It's the longest they have stayed touching with both of them aware of the experience, and part of Hannibal wants to store the sensation in a deep recess of his memory, to be revisited only sparingly. Another part of him is deeply disconcerted at Will's words, firmly cementing what they are doing as an act not performed between equals.

It is suddenly unbearable.

Hannibal is not without conviction though, and makes himself stay as he is for several long breaths before he sits back up on his knees. Will's gaze is heavy on him and it is difficult to meet it, but the thing that enables Hannibal to pick himself up and walk away from near mortal wounds lets him endure this too, looking Will in the eye for the moment it takes to ask "If you're quite finished playing pretend, may I be excused?" and for Will to nod.

As Hannibal turns away he considers what Will may have seen in his eyes to make his gaze shift from heavy to suddenly tinged with a still kind of sadness as he nodded. He shies away from his conclusions.


End file.
